


Hold me in your arms

by cookieficent



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Established Relationship, M/M, Married Characters, Panic Attacks, Self-Esteem Issues, The tags look heavier than the story is, but also soft boys, married kaisoo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-18 08:14:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29115093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cookieficent/pseuds/cookieficent
Summary: Written for The Little Prince Fic FestPrompt #DKS-20-019: At the end of a tiring day, all Kyungsoo wanted was to cuddle with his husband
Relationships: Do Kyungsoo | D.O/Kim Jongin | Kai
Comments: 15
Kudos: 45
Collections: The Little Prince Fest_Round Three





	Hold me in your arms

**Author's Note:**

> My gratitude to the mods for being super accommodating about my multiple extension requests. You've worked really hard, and I hope I join again next year!

_**We've been trying for a long time  
To say what we want to say  
But feelings don't come easy  
To express in a simple way** _

64 minutes. Just 64 minutes more.

40 minutes until he could clock out, 17 minutes of train ride, a 7 minute walk to his apartment. And then he'd be able to breathe. His tie felt like a noose in that moment and he couldn't wait to take it off.

He just needed to hold on for 64 minutes more. Oh, look, just 63 left now.

"If I have to look at these god awful reports for another minute, i'm gonna go berserk" Minseok in the next cubicle groaned loudly.

Kyungsoo knew that exact feeling. The past 4 days had been chaos at the office. A major project, big bills involved, so everyone had been clocking overtime. With the deal signed and sealed, today was about dotting the i's and crossing the t's, and filing all the paperwork in the correct folders. Tedious drudgery, you get the drift.

 _Hang on, Doh_. Kyungsoo muttered under his breath, even as the keyboards clicked and clacked away on the finance division's floor, scratching at his already frayed nerves.

Every five minutes, he'd look at the little slice of home he had created on his desk to keep himself sane. The colourful pizza patterned memo pad _he_ had picked for Kyungsoo, it was so cute he could never bring himself to actually use it. The black wood photo frame holding one of his most precious memories from the vacation 2 years ago, when he'd been the happiest in his entire 27 years of existence. The tiny potted hoya kerrii plant, one of a pair, his anniversary gift; the other in someone else's office desk.

The heart-shaped succulent seemed to be thriving even though Kyungsoo didn't remember when was the last time he had watered it.

Sturdy bastard.

 _Just like you_ , a memory played in his head. In a voice he would never forget, one that could anchor him in the worst of storms. Oh how Kyungsoo would love nothing more than for that voice to be the last thing he hears before he bids the world goodbye.

That brought a tiny smile to his lips.

"You thinking about your husband again?" Minseok again. He peered from over their cubicle divider, "That's the only thing that can make your otherwise dead face look alive"

Without looking up, Kyungsoo retorted, "Well, why don't you go home if you're done with your budget report? Or does your wife not want to see your ugly face before nightfall?"

"Hey, I'll have you know Jihye adores this face. This face is enough to make her--" Kyungsoo tuned him out as his newly married colleague got into TMI territory, as usual.

33 minutes now, he reminded himself as he furiously typed and corrected and annotated his way through the drab reports. 33 minutes more and he'd be in the arms of the man he loved. Take in the usual blueberries, lilies and honey smell, that unique concoction of his various skincare products.

Just thinking about his husband stirred up a maelstrom in Kyungsoo's heart, a little hitch in his breath, that weird giddiness that originates somewhere in your abdomen, like hummingbirds revolting to let out of their cage.

Every thing that wasn't his husband coming into focus – Seungmin's deep baritone grating on his ears; the strong perfume worn by Bora three cubicles over was nothing like the gentle fragrance that was waiting for him at home; Jimin's restlessness in the periphery of his vision putting him on edge; Minseok's loud jokes about Kyungsoo's husband leaving him one day for someone with more life.

And suddenly it was too much.

He just _needed_ to see his husband, hold him, to allay the panic, reassure himself that he was his. That they were each other's.

_**But we all have feelings  
We all need loving...** _

There are many kinds of love. The passionate kind where the physical need overpowers everything else. The rational kind, where it's two people making an effective and efficient unit, practical. The ephemeral, that thrives in the moment, burning bright even if for just a short term but is remembered for a lifetime.

Then there was Kyungsoo and his silent juggernaut of emotions. All-encompassing. An ever-present need to belong, to own, to hold and hide and protect. Fortunately, or unfortunately, he had never let his need be known. It was anyway not of a kind that could be understood by the world. So he kept it within himself.

Except for his husband. He knew him inside out.

Even if Kyungsoo tried his best to withhold himself. Because he never wanted to hold his husband back from his dreams.

During the six years that he had known the man — 1 as roommates in university, 3 as best friends and 2 as husbands — he had let the extent of his insecurities truly show only twice. He considered them too embarrassing to be repeated or recounted, something involving a meltdown in a public bathroom and a week of no contact.

But despite this reticence, his husband _knew_ him, understood his heart and soul and all its disquietude.

He'd hold his hand a little tighter when Kyungsoo's heart raced, stand in front of him to hide him from the world when its lights were too harsh and being visible was the worse thing Kyungsoo could imagine in that moment.

When the void seemed too appealing, his husband, the light of his life, would make sure Kyungsoo's way back to him stayed lit.

God, how much he loved his bright and beautiful sun.

So, you'd have to forgive Kyungsoo for never having the other stray too far from his mind.

Like right now.

Even as train sped towards its destination, Kyungsoo's mind chanted:

_Jongin_

_Jongin_

_Jongin._

Almost as if a life-saving litany.

One that held him together in a sea of people that otherwise threatened to wreck him to pieces, the hushed noise, the sensory onslaught that's typical of rush hour in the subway. The tiredness leaking out of his co-passengers in drowning waves, as if trying to seep their way into his spirit.

It reminded him of when they had first spoken. A ride back from an inter-college fest in the next town. A packed bus full of students and noise and movement. Too much of everything.

An overwhelmed Kyungsoo would have lost control if not for the shy guy seated next to him taking a hold of his hands, guiding his breathing, two of his fingers tapped on the back of his palm as if timing his heartbeats, bringing it down to normal with gentle words and a firm grip.

The hand holding had continued for the rest of the bus ride, and little did Kyungsoo know that it would lead to a bond so strong it couldn't stay within the territory of friendship. How the world defined friendship, that is.

Because they really were friends. Best friends. Still were. It was the very foundation of their relationship. The most defining characteristic of their bond.

Affection. Care. Trust.

Jongin knew exactly what kind of comfort and reassurance Kyungsoo needed when and how much of it. When he needed words, when he needed touches, when he needed a reality check.

And Kyungsoo, he understood Jongin's thirst for freedom, sometimes that translated into his absolute refusal to wear clothes at home or demands for PDA or untimely food cravings; at other times, he'd leave on spontaneous weekend trips to satisfy his need to spread his wings and fly.

Even if Kyungsoo couldn't really join in many of Jongin's more adventurous dreams, he did understand the need for it.

But they were so much in sync that Jongin's needs never clashed with Kyungsoo's.

_Yet. Or maybe Jongin was immensely accommodating of your needs._

No, Kyungsoo shoved that annoying voice to a corner of his mind.

They made a good pair, he reminded himself. A weird pair, his friends often called them.

But who said weird was bad, right? He chuckled to himself even as he power walked from the subway to his apartment building.

As was his routine, he stopped by the elderly woman selling flowers at the corner of their block.  
Today, he chose a single white dahlia, majestic in its flawlessness. Sniffing the fresh bloom, he noted that it didn't have much of a fragrance.

Perfect, he thought; Jongin smelled amazing enough and Kyungsoo didn't want anything overpowering his husband's comforting fragrance today.

Upon entering his apartment, it was almost as if Kyungsoo's feet moved on autopilot. In seconds, he found his way to his husband.

Who was in the kitchen. Dancing?

Or something similar to it.

Kyungsoo couldn't help the fond smile that slid onto his face, as his eyes took in the other swaying from side to side.

The dork had his back to the entryway and was wearing his pink kitty headphones. His knees slightly bent, back leaning forward and his ass jutting out, his moves reminded Kyungsoo of this funny video he'd watched once of an old man dancing with his toddler grandchild. Somehow, Jongin resembled both the old man and the little child in the moment. And just as that thought crossed Kyungsoo's mind, he let out a low chuckle.

If his colleagues saw him now, how he hadn't stopped smiling since setting eyes on his husband, they'd have been stunned speechless. Called him an evil clone or something.

By now, Jongin had started bouncing gently on his feet even as he moved his hips, one arm going above his head, some kind of imaginary lasso in his hand.

Tilting his head to the side, Kyungsoo noticed Jongin's other hand was busy stirring a pot on the stove.

This was unusual. The younger was the type to wheedle his way out of cooking and pout his way into ordering takeout or getting Kyungsoo to cook for him whenever possible.

But today, he seemed to be enjoying himself.

His husband seemed happy. And that made Kyungsoo happy.

All antsiness of the day bled out of his body the longer Kyungsoo watched him.

Clad in a baggy pair of shorts and even baggier T-shirt, which somehow still managed to stretch at his shoulders and arms. Attractive and hot were the words everyone used for the tall man. But to Kyungsoo, Jongin remained looking soft.

And safe. Dependable.

Kyungsoo's home in human form.

Like he could hide away forever in Jongin's tan arms, the larger man's frame a sturdy wall against the harsh world.

Almost instinctively, Kyungsoo's eyes sought out the picture that was stuck on the refrigerator. It was taken during one a picnic during last year. Jongin was sprawled on the cherry-patterned blanket, Kyungsoo lying half on top of him. Asleep. His body curled up like a baby.

Or a shrimp, as Jongin had joked after he had shown that photograph.

Just under that, was a polaroid in low lighting. Taken by Jongin's colleague at one of his fancy work-related gatherings. Next to his tall husband, Kyungsoo's average height seemed to appear much smaller, his face much younger than his years. The roundness of his features stood out in stark contrast to Jongin's, all sharp edges and hard planes.

During friendly get-togethers and hangouts, their companions often teased how obvious the couple's "relationship dynamic" was — introverted, soft spoken and petite Kyungsoo could only be a bottom, and how Jongin's harder features and bigger physique was a typical top giveaway.

But relationships weren't always binary, never always so easy to fit into convenient slots.

And Jongin and Kyungsoo weren't your typical couple.

They never bothered to correct anyone how this very heteronormative (Jongin would often whisper with an eyeroll on such occasions), and hypersexual idea of romantic relationships didn't apply to them. It was nobody's business after all.

Kyungsoo's reverie was halted when his nose twitched. Noticed a slightly pungent odor. It took his brain weirdly long to process that observation and come to the conclusion that it was the smell of something burning.

Lost in his music, Jongin seemed oblivious to whatever mess his food was becoming. The still dancing man was busy looking for something in one of their cabinets.

Another sudden thought hit Kyungsoo.

Jongin wouldn't be happy if his cooking attempts were ruined. He would, in fact, feel disheartened. Not at all excited and lively like he was now. And that hollow feeling of failure, that sadness, Kyungsoo never wanted his husband to feel it.

Spurred into action, he entered the kitchen, rolled up his sleeves, took the pot off the stove and set about saving the food.

2 heartbeats later, with a loud "HYUNG!", Jongin's strong arms were around Kyungsoo, his head resting on the latter's shoulder.

"I didn't hear you. When did you come home? Didn't you say the project was done? Why didn't you return early? Did they make you stay late again?" Jongin rattled on, his beautiful face tilted towards Kyungsoo's but still leaning on his shoulder.

"Hyunnng, why aren't you replying?" His voice rose into a whine, his pout making its appearance.

Kyungsoo didn't need to look at the taller to know the expression on his face. He smiled, and butted his head gently against his husband's.

"I missed you" was all he said in response.

Instantly, Jongin's pout was replaced by a blinding smile. He responded by placing a kiss on Kyungsoo's cheek, holding his lips against his skin for a few extra seconds. His arms tightened against his shorter husband, drawing out a sigh from the full lips he loved so much.

"Yah! I wanted to cook for you! Why did you take over?" Jongin said when realised that Kyungsoo was doing more than just stirring the pot now.

"And you did cook for me. This is made by you. I’m just giving it some finishing touches so we can eat it and still survive.” he replied in a gentle voice.

“Hyunnnng…. Why are you like this?” The pout was back.

For some minutes, all was silent, both men comfortable just being close to each other, a cosy picture of domestic bliss. The crackle and sizzle of the food made for a pleasant background music for their life in that moment.

“What were you listening to?”

“Hmm? Oh! Remember Park Chanyeol? The guitarist from the band that played at Baekhyun’s label launch last year?”

When Kyungsoo looked lost, Jongin added, “The tall guy whose cap made his ears look funny? You said you liked his voice and he got clingy with you when he found out?”

At the look of realisation on his husband’s face, Jongin went on to explain that the guitarist had released an album as a singer.

“Seems like your compliments about his voice motivated him to work towards his dream,” he continued. “And he’s actually quite good. Do you want to listen? You’re his muse after all.”

“Why would I be his muse??”

“You have to check out the album! Dude is clearly smitten with you. Hell, one of his songs is even titled Big Eyes Big Ass. I'm actually concerned you might leave me for his musician ass. Your sister told me, as a teenager, you used to have a thing for idols,” Jongin said with a smirk and a not so gentle pat on Kyungsoo's butt.

The elbow that knocked into his abdomen in response wasn't unexpected at all, but it still made him hunch over. More in laughter than actual pain.

Tears streaming down his tan face, he sat on the floor, and whined in faux pain.

"Ahh it hurt, hyung! Might even bruise."

Kyungsoo turned away from the stove, a hand on his hip which was cocked to the side. He couldn't help but shake his head at the dishevelled state of the man on the floor.

Soft, slightly long silver hair flopping over his forehead. T-shirt rumpled and splattered with questionable stains, probably the result of his efforts in the kitchen.

Who would guess that this uncoordinated mess on the kitchen floor was a reputed name in the fashion industry? Hell, his shirt and shorts weren't even matching right now.

But, by God, did he adore his precious husband.

Jongin was still rubbing his tummy. As if his hard abs would be affected by an easy elbow nudge, Kyungsoo thought with a roll of his eyes.

Shaking his head at Jongin's dramatic ass, Kyungsoo pulled him to his feet, flicking his forehead once he was up.

"OW!"

"That was for saying ridiculous things."

Jongin mumbled something like "I was telling the truth" but Kyungsoo's glare shut him up. Once he managed to get him in a chair, Kyungsoo went back to get the food served.

Meanwhile, the younger resumed his chatter, telling his husband about his day, the movie he went out for with a colleague, the couple he saw making out in the hallway on his return, his colleague's silly innuendos. He mentioned a new amusement park in the next town he wanted to check out.

When Kyungsoo returned with the dishes, he noticed the dahlia was now tucked behind Jongin's ear, the white petals a stunning contrast against the golden skin, a meaningful look in the wearer's eyes.

"This one doesn't have much of a fragrance"

In response, Kyungsoo's eyes ducked down for a second, his steps faltering just the slightest. But that was enough for his husband.

A quiet exhale later, the younger opened his arms and the other quietly accepted the embrace, finding his place in Jongin's lap.

As if their roles from earlier had switched, Kyungsoo's face was now pressed into the other's neck, hands fisted in his shirt, leaving little pecks on his collarbone, neck and shoulders. Reassuring himself.

_**And who would be the fool to say, that if you  
Hold me in your arms  
I won't feel better** _

__

__

The hand slowly rubbing circles on his back was the most effective medicine for him. The contact of warm skin soothing the frazzled echos of his earlier distress. Who needed therapy when just your husband's touch could silence all your demons?

Moments passed in silence again. Long minutes. Kyungsoo breathed in the other's skin, deep lungfuls, as if trying to steal some of the golden glow for his own shrouded in shadows heart.

Jongin didn't ask any questions. He never did.

"Let's eat" he prompted after a while, and the elder shifted into the chair beside him, one hand still holding onto the fabric Jongin's shorts. Gently, the taller pried his fingers off the cloth, instead grasping it in his bigger, warmer hands.

They ate in silence mostly, only broken by Jongin's comments about the improvement in his own cooking skills and the little "aahs" he whispered to feed Kyungsoo some bites, ensuring the other ate enough.

Once they had finished, Jongin took charge of clean-up duty, pushing Kyungsoo to go freshen up.

The shower helped wash away the grime of the day, but away from his husband's comforting warmth and familiar scent, Kyungsoo's unrest surged again.

Reminding him that nothing could cleanse his mind of the anxious pressure, the worries that seemed to have gouged themselves almost permanently in his existence. Reminding what he already knew but always chose to ignore – that the respite in Jongin's presence was only a temporary balm.

The mention of Jongin's impending trip to the park slithered into his mind unbidden, bringing back the apprehension. The dread of abandonment, loneliness, of not being enough.

However unfounded they were, Kyungsoo could never completely be free of them.

As the water ran cold, he realised the palpitation in his chest was growing, the void trickling back in. He finished washing up and rushed out to find the warmth that could make the cold go away. Or at least smother it up for another day.

His personal sun. And when Jongin smiled at him, his eyes would disappear into crescent moons. His sun and moon, all rolled in one beautiful human. The sight of a smiling Jongin would make Kyungsoo's heart race a mile a minute and put his mind strangely in a peaceful static.

When his husband was happy, Kyungsoo would find himself feeling… alive. Like he was doing something right. Like there was a reason for him to hold on, to see that smile one more time.

And that smile was what he was greeted with when he reached the other in the living room. Seemingly wearing Jongin's shirt, and that too, the wrong way.

Much like a few hours ago, Jongin broke into loud laughter. And the sound of it eased Kyungsoo's agitation a little bit.

He had always known that this was unhealthy. That his happiness and contentment shouldn't be dependent on one person, on anyone for that matter. That this wasn't how it should be. It was unfair towards Jongin, to place that power and burden on him. It was Kyungsoo's albatross to bear, to deal with.

He knows that. Tomorrow. I'll work on it tomorrow, he thought. Maybe even look up that therapist his sister had recommended.

But in that moment, he just wanted to cuddle with his husband and feel like his existence matters. Feel worthy of being loved. Of loving someone as precious as Jongin.

As if reading the thoughts in his too large, too open eyes, Jongin took both of Kyungsoo's trembling pale hands in his own, drawing him into his chest.

"Let's go cuddle, my perfect husband"

Jongin almost whispered the words into the other's hair, and in the next moment picked him up in a sweep, enveloping Kyungsoo once again in his sweet smelling warmth.

About 20 minutes and dozens of kisses later, Kyungsoo found himself teetering on the edge of his consciousness, his fingers in Jongin's hair as his head was placed on Kyungsoo's chest, arms around the shorter's waist, legs entwined together, his hold determined, as if tethering the shorter to himself.

"'Soo…" Jongin mumbled, and Kyungsoo hmmed to signal he was listening.

"Hold on to me, hyung, and let go. I'll keep you safe."

And those words gave him the courage to give in to the sweet call of sleep, letting it lull him into a priceless peacefulness. Kyungsoo snuggled deeper into the other's embrace, offering a silent thank you and I love you with his lips pressed against Jongin's head, his fragrance the last memory as he drifted off.

_**If you hold me in your arms** _ **  
_We can brave this storm together_ **

_**So put your trust in me, lover** _ **  
_No one's ever gonna take your place_ **

****

****

**Author's Note:**

> I just wanted to write soft cuddling boys but it turned into an angsty mess 😭
> 
> To the prompter, I'm so sorry if I couldn't deliver what you had hoped for. Blame my hormones and my own anxiety. But hey, you said no sad ending, and at least I stuck to that! 
> 
> I quit on this fic several times, and tried to push through only because I like to keep my promises. But I still couldn't make myself edit it so if there are any errors, please forgive me, and I hope they didn't keep you from at least finishing the story. 
> 
> And if this felt like a waste of your time, I apologise for that too. 
> 
> The bold italicized text is lyrics from Rick Astley's Hold Me In Your Arms
> 
> Please, everyone, eat good food and take care of yourself.


End file.
